


Limbo

by maraudertimes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hogwarts, Mild Language, Romance, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, contains spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudertimes/pseuds/maraudertimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> "Fred... You're dead..."</p><p>"Hey, that rhymes!"</p><p> </p><p>*Two-shot*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limbo

It was white. Like, really white. So white my mum would have wanted our kitchen to be this spotless. Groaning as I sat up, I yelped as I realized that I wasn’t clothed. Then I yelped again as I realized I wasn’t alone.

Some blonde girl was sitting on a bench a little ways away. Her head was turned away from me, which I was grateful for. A small pile of clothes was two feet away and I quickly slipped into them. The girl didn’t turn though, even though I made quite a bit of noise. Walking over to her, I realized how outdated her clothes were.

And this is coming from a guy who bought a dragon skin suit.

She had a white and blue patterned shirt under an olive jacket-dress. Her hair was slicked back and voluminous. It was not modern dress. The strange white room thing made her seem even more out of place.

The colour she added to this white place – what was this? King’s Cross Station? – was harsh. As I finally reached the bench she was sitting on, she turned. Her blue eyes met my brown ones and I sucked in a breath. She was gorgeous.

“You’re Fred?” She asked in a musical voice, a slight accent making the question a little huskier.

I nodded, unsure what to say. She smiled, her red lips curving up beautifully.

“I’m Calla. I’m sure you want to know what’s happening.”

I nodded again. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I had only ever had this feeling once; when Angelina walked down the staircase while I waited for her, a little nervous about the whole Yule Ball concept. And while Angelina was gorgeous (and into quidditch, which made her even more fit) and smart and my type, she couldn’t compare to Calla.

Of course, I still loved Angie. And I had only just met this lady. So Angie was still my girl. But there was no doubt, Calla was amazingly gorgeous.

“Well, you’ve… you’ve died.” Calla started fidgeting with her dress and bit her ruby red lips. It was sinfully attractive. “And now you’re in limbo.”

She looked up from the ground where she was staring and our gazes met. Her blue eyes showed her concern for me.

“Limbo? Like that party game?” I asked, giggling and running a hand through my hair. I never had been good with dealing with big things. “You’d think it’d be a little bit more colourful.”

Calla sighed and crossed her (long) legs, placing her hands in her lap. “Fred… You’re dead…”

“Hey, that rhymes!”

She frowned. “You’re taking this extremely well,” she said in her strange accent.

“I deal with things in my own way.”

“By joking and pulling pranks instead of facing your problems?”

I smiled. “Spot on, babe.” She seemed to stiffen and I let my smile drop. “So what is limbo?” I asked after a minute or so of silence.

She seemed relieved by the distraction. “Well you know how ghosts work?” I nodded and she continued. “Limbo is kind of like a semi-permanent ghost-like trance, but for wizards, witches and muggles killed by magical means – but don’t ask me why, I don’t know. Those who go to Limbo have unfinished business on earth. And then when they finish it, they leave. You said this was like King’s Cross Station? Well in the travel sense, it is. We come here one way and we can only leave in the other direction, but only when all our metaphorical baggage has been checked.”

I nodded, gesturing towards the empty seat on the bench. Calla nodded and I took a few steps in that direction before sitting down. Resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I look a long, deep breath. A small hand rested on the small of my back and I flinched at the touch.

What the hell was happening? First, I’m part of this crazy nutter of a battle, dodging curses and stunning bints in silver masks. Then I wake up in this white version of King’s Cross that’s apparently called Limbo with this beautiful girl who looks like she’s from the fifties, telling me I have unfinished business on earth.

Problem is, I don’t know what it is.

“Well, how do I finish this unfinished business? I can’t very well stay here.”

Calla frowned. “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask.”

“Why not?” I lifted my head and frowned back.

She gave me a look. “Fred, how old do you think I am?”

I blushed. My mum had always told me not to comment on a woman’s age.

“19?”

She blushed as well. “22, but that’s beside the point. Let me rephrase that. How long ago do you think I was born?”

“I don’t know. 40 years ago?”

She smiled and put one of her soft palms on my right cheek, staring into my eyes. “I was born on November 16th, 1924. I died in 1946.”

I tried to keep the shock off my face, but I honestly couldn’t. She didn’t seem to be that old. Of course, she still looked 22, or maybe even younger, but I couldn’t believe she was technically 74 years old.

“How… how is that possible?” I asked quietly. “You said you could only ‘move on’ after your unfinished business is finally finished, so how come it’s been 50 years and you still have unfinished business?”

She took her hand away from my face and placed it back in her lap. Looking down, she bit her lip and I saw a small tear glide down her cheek.

“Everyone leaves at one point, you know. Either they finish what they needed to finish or they walk down the ‘platform.’ Those in Limbo don’t like being around each other. It’s too painful. Either someone leaves the other and the one left behind has to cope with the abandonment, or the two watch each other become more and more depressed. Limbo isn’t a very hopeful or happy place.”

She looked at me, tears racing down her cheeks.

“My full name was Calla Lily Antonescu. I was a muggle and I was born in Albania and lived there until I died. The day I died, I was waiting for the man I loved in the woods. You see, my father was a notable duke and I fell in love with an English traveler. My father disapproved wholeheartedly. The man had no family, no job, nothing. And I had everything. My parents were scared that he wanted me for my connections. For my money.

"But I was 22 and foolish. He had told me he was a butcher and had secured a local job cutting down some of the trees in the forest, but that in a week they were going to fire him. I had tried to give him some of my more precious jewels to sell. I didn’t want him to leave me. But he refused like the gentleman he was.”

He eyes shined as she talked and I felt a little jealous.

“One day, we were having a picnic and he proposed. I was overjoyed and I accepted, giddy with excitement. He told me my father would never consent to giving him my hand in marriage and asked me to run away. He said he had found a church that would stay open late and marry us, as well as a cabin deep in the woods where we could live for a while. Then he promised to bring me back to England and give me a good life, the kind I deserved.

"I told him to meet me under my bedroom window at midnight. Part of me didn’t think he would show, but he did, his dark hair shining in the moonlight. I had already gotten my maids to pack a small bag with thin dresses and other necessities, and I put on an outfit I thought would be a pretty wedding dress substitute since I had no white dresses.”

Her fingers fluttered at the edges of the sleeves of her dress.

“I had another small bag of precious jewels and priceless family heirlooms. I threw the two bags down to him and he caught them. I climbed down the side of the house – there were vines that I used regularly when my father forbade me to leave the manor. Once I got down, he kissed me so lightly and told me I was gorgeous.”

I smiled as she did. She _was_ very beautiful.

“We took the bags and left, heading towards the woods. Once we got far in, I asked where the church was. He gave me a look and told me there wasn’t to be a church visit tonight. Then I asked where the cabin was. He said we only had a few more minutes to go. I started to get nervous but he kept my hand gripped in his.

"After a few minutes, he stopped in a clearing. When I asked him what he was doing, he smiled and pulled out a small stick. I asked him what he was doing but he didn’t answer. Then I saw a flash of green light… Then nothing. Next thing I remember I woke up here.”

She looked up at me, her cheeks wet with tears and her eyes betraying her broken heart. I had a sick feeling in my gut.

“Calla, what have you been waiting to finish?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

“Fred, if I had it my way, I _would_ have married him that night. Had I known he was a wizard, I would have still loved him.”

“Calla…”

“Those is Limbo can see what’s happening in the real world you know. Muggle or wizarding. Most choose to watch the wizarding world because that’s where they’re from, but I was a muggle.”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this…”

“I watched my family get ripped apart by my disappearance. Watched police officers drag my body out of a hole in the ground 30 years later. Watched my parents die, knowing that because they died naturally, and because I had unfinished business, I would probably never see them again.”

She gave me a strange look and took a breath.

“I watched the wizarding world after a while. Watched the love of my life murder dozens more. Kill babies and mothers only because they were muggles. Because they were like me. And when they found their way to Limbo, and I told them my story, they would lash out, screaming about how I was a deluded young girl who trusted and loved a man afflicted with insanity…”

Her voice broke and I reached over to grab one of her hands.

“Fred, I can’t have you think less of me because of who I loved, of why I can’t leave Limbo.” She stared up at me and I nodded, silently promising her that nothing she could say would make me judge her. “I fell in love with a beautiful man when I was younger. Dark hair, dark eyes… Dark heart. If I had it my way, the night I died, I would have been married. And I would’ve become Mrs. Tom Riddle.”  
   



End file.
